


Office Daze

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Dead Like Me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-05
Updated: 2005-08-05
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:55:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1640054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Georgia Lass: Reaper and wage slave. It really is a wonderful afterlife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Office Daze

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Merry

 

 

Working at Happy Time is like spending an eight-hour eternity in obsessive-compulsive touchy-feely hell. The worst part about it - even worse than the fact that this was probably going to be a hell I was condemned to every day for the rest of my life, death, whatever - was that I was starting to _like_ it. I didn't like it anywhere; that was part of what made me _me_.

All right, all right, I'll admit it. There were a couple of places I felt okay in. My house - off limits thanks to that fucking toilet seat, Der Waffle Haus and here, at my desk with Delores hanging over my shoulder and watching out for me. Unless she was being fucking stupid which Delores could be. A lot.

So when Mason came strolling down the aisle to my cubicle, I knew something was up and not just with Mason. He'd been better since he'd moved in with us and I sent Ray's asshole soul to where it was supposed to go. Even Daisy admitted it. In private. He showered, cleaned all six shirts and jeans he had left and the regular meals had fleshed out his cheeks some. I was still pretty damn sure he'd stay skinny forever, even if he won the lottery and could eat as much as he liked. Even without the whole dead thing.

Could dead people get fat? I'd have to ask Rube about that tomorrow.

So Mason walked in, hands twitching, and grabbed the chair out of Billy Dumbfuck's cubicle across from mine and dragged it over. No one had bothered with fixing that squeaky wheel now that Billy Dumbfuck was gone and I wince. "Hey, Georgie, what'cha doing?"

He gave me a bright smile, tapping his fingers against his leg. Tap, tap, tap. Now his leg was bumping up and down too. Mason never could fucking sit still. Sometimes at night, when I couldn't sleep, I'd go watch over Mason on the couch and he wasn't even quiet and still then. He tossed and turned and mumbled about Daisy and petunias. Or maybe it was daisies and petunias. Who the fuck knew with Mason?

My mother would have hated him. It was just too damn bad that the face my mother saw wasn't who I really was. The shitty thing about being dead was that I couldn't bring Mason home, introduce him to my mother as my boyfriend just to see the horrified look on her face. And the best, the absolutely best part, was that I knew wouldn't be the unwashed smell that clung to Mason most of the time, or the needle scars, or him being at least five years older than me, or even the fact that Mason could be about as dumb as a fucking bag of bricks. No, I knew it was really just how fucking messy Mason was that would freak her out.

Too bad. Being dead sucked. But I suppose you get over it sometime.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I asked him, mentally trying to figure out if I had screwed something up and invited him to lunch or something. It had been business as usual at Der Waffle Haus this morning: Rube had a post-it, Roxy had a post-it and Mason had a post-it. Daisy and I had omelets and oatmeal.

It had to be a slow day for gruesome disfiguring deaths, I guessed.

Mason held up his hands backwards, palms to his chest, and even if I hadn't been suspicious before, I definitely was now. "Can't I just want to come see you?"

"Only if you want something. Like money," I told him. Mason was such a user if you let him be. At least he didn't reek of alcohol right now. Not that it mattered because I could see Crystal's glasses peeking up over the reception desk and I _knew_ Delores was staring at us. Fucking office gossip. By tomorrow Mason would be my drug dealer boyfriend who beats me when I won't whore out for him.

Just what I needed. I would probably come to work to a Delores organized intervention.

Being dead for a certain length of time must fuck with the brain cells and make you a little nuts because I was actually thinking that it was sort of a nice thought that Delores _would_ do something like that for me if she thought I needed it,

"Okay, you're right." He caved, just like I expected him to. "I want something." Mason's shoulders dropped a little and he flipped his hands over so I could see his palms.

And the purple post-it stuck to his left hand. S. Pederson, Happy Time, 11:39am.

Well, shit.

At least this meant a half day for everyone. Delores would never make us stay after S. Pederson bought the big one. And even if Delores made us stay - not fucking likely - the cops never would. "I'm running short of time, Georgie," Mason continued. "Help your loving, friendly, charming roommate out. Please?" I just stared at him. Friendly and roommate, yes. Loving, maybe. But charming? _Mason_? Never. Well, maybe if I was really really drunk. "Come on, Georgie! Just point him out." Mason was whining now, putting his hands down. "I'll even pay rent after I pay Kiffany back." Which would be a long time coming at the average five bucks a week Mason managed to lie, cheat or steal his way into. But I liked that he was sincere about it and really trying to repay the generosity she'd shown him after Mason had been such an asshole.

"Forget about the rent, Mason," I told him, looking around the office. Pederson, Pederson, where the fuck are you? _Who_ the fuck are you?

"Is this man bothering you, Millie?" Shit, Delores alert.

I smiled thinly at her. "No, Delores, he's my..."

"Boyfriend," Mason said.

"Brother," I said. At the same time.

"Brother," Mason then said.

"Boyfriend," I said. At the same time. Again, I glared at Mason. Where were the gags when you needed them?

Delores looked at us both oddly, her eyebrows lowering. I tried not to cringe _too_ openly. "Why, Millie, why didn't you tell me?"

"Uh." Okay, tell her what? Did someone spike the coffee pot?

"I think it's absolutely terrific of you and your partner to be auditioning at comedy clubs!" Delores continued talking right over me. For once I was glad she couldn't shut up. It saved me from having to come up with some lame excuse. Not that Delores's explanation wasn't really fucking pathetic but I was lazy. "You both should spend some time talking with Sam. He used to be a bouncer at one of those comedy clubs before he left to join the body building competition circuit." She tsked slightly, shaking her head. "That's a very hard life, you know. Especially with all the drug use. But Sam never had `roid rage. He did it all himself. Even managed to win second place before joining the Happy Time family." She brightened and looked around the office. "Ah, there he is now! Sam!" I looked where Delores was waving and spotted him. Big muscular guy with no neck. I wondered how he breathed with no neck connecting his head to his body.

And, then, I remembered his last name was _Pederson._

"That's him," I said to Mason under my breath and through clenched teeth.

"Who? Wh - Oh!"

Mason never was all that quick to catch on unless there was some sort of larceny involved. It was a miracle I even liked him. But I did. He was a screw-up but Mason was sort of our screw-up. It was like my relationship with my mother in a way. We were nothing alike but I missed her, I missed the way my mother pissed me off all the time, when she was gone. I'd miss Mason when he was gone. That was probably why I told Daisy to fuck off and let Mason stay with us in the first place. Because he said he loved me and prepared to move on, like Betty. I didn't have many friends; I couldn't afford to lose any more of them.

"What is it, Delores?" Big and Beefy had joined us.

"Sam, Millie and her friend here," she gestured at Mason and raised her eyebrows. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I didn't get your name?"

"Oh, uh." Mason jerked to his feet and offered his hand. Sam got there first and I watched the old Reaper Special in action. "Mason. It's Mason. Georgie's told me so much about you."

"'Georgie'?" Sam grinned and let go of Mason's hand so he could shake Delores's.

"It's because we met in Georgia," I explained, fast. I was such a bad liar. I'd never been to Georgia and if Mason had, I'd eat my shoes.

Delores laughed again. "Aren't they just a riot, Sam? These two are auditioning at comedy clubs around here. I told them to talk to you for advice."

Sam checked his watch, snapped on a really fucking big wrist, and grinned. "I have some time at lunch. Let me just finish putting together these first and I'd be happy to give you some tips." He held up a packet of about fifty stapled pages that were labeled `Training Manual.' SOS at the copy machine. It was probably his tie. I'd heard urban legends about men getting their ties caught in copy machines and getting strangled to death. That'd be harder for Sam to do, of course, since he had no neck. But I figured the Gravelings would figure it out. They always did.

I wondered if they all had started out as assholes like Ray.

"That sounds great, Sam," I told him. "Thank you for your help." Like dying and giving me the perfect excuse not to ever have to mention this again. `Oh, Delores, but Sam died! I could never play a club now!'

I rocked.

He grinned at us both and gave a jaunty little salute with the training manual before trotting off to his imminent doom. Which still left Delores hanging around. "Now, Millie, I think it's wonderful you two are going to do this, but you really," her voice dropped to near whisper and both Mason and I leaned in close so we could hear her. "Shouldn't practice during office hours."

I nodded slowly, humoring her. "Riiight, Delores. No problem. Mason was just early."

"Oooh, I like that in a man." And then she. Checked. Him. Out.

My life was so weird. Death. Whatever.

Mason gave her a nervous smile and started the whole leg and finger tapping thing up again. He opened his mouth, probably to say something really stupid, but Delores and mine brain cells were saved from the loud and piercing shriek coming from the copy room. Big and Beefy Sam must have been noticed. Delores hurried off, leaving me and Mason to our own devices.

I looked over at him, still fidgeting, and shook my head. "Come on, Mason, let's go get lunch. I'm buying."

He stood up and offered me his arm. I took it and we started off to the door.

Yeah, it was a weird life and an ever weirder job. But it was mine.

 


End file.
